


The Sandlot

by thomasmxller



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, im awful at summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasmxller/pseuds/thomasmxller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is the new kid on the block who knows squat about football. Robert's gonna change that. </p>
<p>Also Known As... The Sandlot AU That No One Asked For</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Legends

There is one all-time greatest moment in the history of sports, and it happened in 1954 World Cup. The story goes that with six minutes left in regular time and the scored tied at two, Helmut _Der Boss_ Rahn had received the ball just outside the penalty box. Dodging a defender and driving forward, he managed to get a shot off at the lower left corner of the goal. It whistled past Crosics, into the back of the net securing Germany their first even World Cup trophy. And even though he had been a hero before that, that’s pretty much how he became a legend.

 

Forty eight years later, a kid named Robert Lewandowski became a neighborhood legend. It was the greatest summer of my life, when he taught me to play football and he became my best friend.

 

And he got me out of the biggest pickles I’d ever be in.

 

I moved to the neighborhood two weeks before school let out.

 

It was the same summer that Germany would finish runner-up in the World Cup, so with something that incredible going on, it should have started off with loads of great things happening for me, but it didn’t. I was from another city, and I didn’t have a single friend in two hundred miles.

 

It was a lousy way to end up the eighth grade, because I had zip time to make friends before the summer.

 

And that’s where it all started.


	2. The New Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas meets the guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the story telling timeline/ ordering is a little funking because I'm trying to keep it in the style of the Sandlot movie. Also I know the first chapter was in First Person but the rest is going to be in Third Person limited.

 

Thomas approach the door cautiously , encouraged by Claudia’s earnest nods, and knocked gently.

 

Gerhard answered distractedly, “ Yeah?”

 

“Um, dad.., I- I mean Gerd?” Thomas stuttered. “ Remember you promised you’d teach me to shoot? “

 

Gerhard nodded mutely, still focused on his work.

 

“Well could you teach me?”

 

“Yeah. Sure.” He responded still distracted.

 

Thomas’s nervous smile widened into a grin.

 

“Okay? Cool! Thanks.”

 

He’d followed them to the sandlot once after school: a gaggle of boys his own age tripping over their feet to get somewhere had been too tempting a situation to pass up.

 

(Plus Thomas was trying to take his mother’s advice to try and make friends. Only an egghead would be alone all summer.)

 

He trailed a safe distance behind them, watching them make their way towards the junkyard Thomas had seen when they had first arrived in town. They had instead, however, abruptly turned right, winding up the well-worn path to….. _this_.

 

He’d never seen any place like it. It was like their own little football kingdom and possibly the greatest place Thomas had ever seen.

 

Bordered on three sides by the local scrapheap and a neighborhood, the field was the perfect place for a kick-around. The entrance was overgrown enough that only those knowledgeable of its location could find it but the grass was in nice enough condition that suggested someone took care of it regularly. Gleaming on either side were the goals, towering silver behemoths more appropriate for a senior side then the barely-teenagers who currently made us of them.

 

The boys fly across the pitch, feet a blur as they passed the ball back and forth and headed towards goal. They were outfitted in various jerseys of some sort, each sporting the crest of a different team, names of their hometown hero’s plastered across the backs.

 

All Thomas had was a worn out Bayern kit from the 70’s his dad had given him for his birthday before he had passed away.

 

But when Thomas had finally got up enough guts to go out there and try and make friends, he found out that they never kept score, they never chose side, and they never even really stopped playing the game. It just went on forever. Every day they picked up where they left off the day before.

 

It was like an endless dream game.

 

There were only ten of them, so they didn’t have a whole team. So even though Thomas did not know precisely how to play, he figured he could be the eleventh man and maybe just stand in on defense and take up space.

 

Of course if Thomas had foreseen what was coming, he maybe would never have ventured out there in the first place.

 

(Years later though he will look back and thank his lucky star he had taken the risk.)

 

The yells from the boys dragged Thomas out of his thoughts. He was standing in the shadows, visible, but only if someone looked his way. He sat cross-legged and watch, amazed at the ease with which the boys moved with the ball.

 

“Hey!” A blonde boy yelled up from the ground. “Mats that was a foul.”

 

A third boy wandered over to the two grimacing. He was shorter than the rest but given the way the group looked up to him and trusted him to preside over the game, Thomas inferred that he must have been the oldest.

 

“Toni’s right Mats, that’s a pen,” he stated pointing to a spot. He called over to a fourth, the tallest of the group on the pitch. “Manu, that means you’re in goal now and Toni you can step up or hand it off to whomever.”

 

Toni nodded and gestured to the raven-haired boy who had watched the proceedings bemusedly.

 

The one they had called Manu jumped into the goal eagerly and started jumping as if attempting to distract the one taking the penalty.

 

“Come on, Lewy, put it in the back of the net.”

 

“Yeah let’s go, sneak one past Manu!”

 

The dark haired boy (Lewy? Thomas mused) placed the ball carefully on the invisible spot before measuring out his three steps backwards. Letting out a breathe Thomas hadn’t realized he was holding, he watch as the boy struck the ball nearly perfectly towards the top right corner of the goal.

 

Perhaps a little too perfectly, however, as the goalie had correctly predicted the path and, with a single ungloved hand, punched it clear over the bar and right towards…

 

Oh no. Thomas thought as he watched the ball bounce over his head and roll to a stop once it hit the fence.

 

Turning back to the group, Thomas felt ten pairs of following his movement. Standing shakely, he headed to retrieve the ball.

 

“I’ll get it,” he muttered weakly.

 

_Don’t be a goofus. Don’t be a goofus. Don’t be a goofus!_ He thought desperately. He continued cautiously, the sound of the fence rattling frightening him.

 

“Come on, kick the ball back,” One of the group whined impatiently.

 

Thomas had the ball at his feet. _Why not_ , he thought, _it can’t be all that hard._ He lined up as he had seen the dark haired boy do, ran up and..

 

Tripped on his own two feet, his face making a newfound acquaintance in the ground.

 

“Oh my god.”

“Did you see that?!”

 

The groups ringing laughter filled his ears.

 

_My life is over,_ Thomas decided dramatically. Standing up as quickly as he could, he picked up the ball and walked it over to the group, most of whom were still consumed with laughter. He placed it in the hands of the dark hair boy, who was not finding amusement in Thomas’s misfortune but instead staring at him thoughtfully, his blue eyes following his every movement.

 

Discouraged, Thomas once more forced out an apology and ran home, vowing never again to return to this place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Please.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas learns some new skills and makes new friends!

Thomas was sitting cross-legged on the bed, engrossed in his books when his mother entered his room.

“Thomas, have you made any friends yet?” She questioned gently.

“…No.”

“Why not honey?”

Thomas sighed, “Because I’m still new.”

His mother moved to sit beside him, her arm wrapping around his back comfortingly.

“I don’t want you to just sit around all summer reading. I know it hard here without any stables around but you need to get outside again. Take in the fresh air and make some friends! Go make trouble again, Thomas. You don’t know how much I miss Mrs. Schnieder dragging you home after your plots had gone awry. How many other mothers would give their sons permission to cause trouble like that.”

Thomas smiled, “None mothers I guess.”

She smiled back, her grin matching his wolfish one.

The next day, Claudia was adamant.

“He said he would teach you how to shoot and he will! Now is as good a time as any to ask Thomas.”

He recognized that face as one not to be argued with so once again, he approached Gerhard.

“Uhhh Gerhard, I mean Dad…? Uh can we, I mean, could you , like you said, teach me how to shoot?”

He looked over from his work to Thomas’s face alight with nervous excitement.

“I’ve got work I need to get done…. But,” He conceded noticing the disappointment color Thomas’s face, “ A half an hour break never hurt anyone. Go grab the ball from the garage and meet me in the backyard.”

Thomas went to grab the ball.  Eagerly, he rushed to the yard to find Gerhard already warming up.  Unsure what to do, Thomas dropped the ball at his stepfather’s feet and took two steps back.

“Okay Thomas,” he said smiling, “Go over to the other side of the yard. Alright now,” he continued, Thomas having complied, “I’m gonna kick you the ball. When it gets close enough to you, put your foot on the ground in front of it to stop it. Simple enough, right?”

Thomas nodded nervously, but watched with anticipation as the ball rolled towards him. Following Gerhard’s instructions, he placed his foot down just before the ball reached him and just like he had predicted, it stopped. Delighted, Thomas looked up at the man in front of him smile wider than Claudia had seen it recently.

Gerhard smiled back.

“Okay that was perfect Thomas. Now, kick it back to me, simple enough just do what I did.”

Thomas did as he was told and was pleased to watch as his foot made contact and sent the ball rolling back to it origin without him making a fool of himself.

They continued like this for a few minutes before Gerhard suggested they move on to actual shooting. Using the two water bottles Claudia had provided them as goalposts, Gerhard set Thomas up between them so that he could demonstrate proper shooting technique.

Thomas was determined to perfect this technique, focusing his concentration on the motion of Gerhard’s legs and his instructions. So much so, in fact, that he did not notice the ball flying towards his face until…

_ Oh shi-. _

**THWACK**

Thomas went down with a scream, the palm of his hand pressed against his nose in an attempt to stop the stream of blood from staining his shirt.

His stepfather rush towards him, one apology after another spilling out of his mouth as he assessed the rather localized damage.

Claudia had rushed outside upon hearing Thomas’s yell, and had hurried the boy inside to the bathroom, her fingers pinching the offending organ until a better solution could be found.

‘Come on now, Thomas, shirt off, sit in the tub, head back. ’ she demanded.

His eyes grew wide.

‘But momma!’ he questioned, his voice congested.

But she was adamant and so, with minimal grumbling, Thomas followed his mother’s orders, slipping his shirt over his head and crawling into the tub, his head still tilted to the ceiling. 

 

Dismayed at his failure, Thomas closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of his mother fretting about, once again cleaning up after his mistakes. 

 

No longer. Thomas vowed. He would no longer be a goofus. He would make friends. 

 

…

 

Just not with those kids, he concedes. Clearly that was not going to work out. 

  
  
  
  
  


Thomas goes out the next day, to explore the town, he tells himself, not to hide from his mother because what kind of fourteen year old does that. 

  
  
  


He’s exiting the bakery, munching on a leberkase sandwich that leaves much to be desired when he sees  _ him _ for a second time. 

 

Lewy, the other boys had called him, was walking towards Thomas, a ball tucked under his arm and his attention focused on the phone in his hand. 

 

_ If I keep my head down _ , Thomas thought desperately, lowering his gaze to his feet, _ maybe he will just pass by without notici- _

 

‘Hey!’

 

A voice interrupted his thoughts. Thomas glanced up slowly, hoping desperately for someone else, anyone else to be talking to him. 

 

Luck would not be his lady today. 

 

‘You’re the boy from the pitch yesterday, yeah?’ He questioned.

 

Thomas nodded minutely. 

 

‘Well, i’m going to play some kick around and we need an extra guy. Marco sprained his ankle again. Wanna join? ‘ 

 

Thomas blanched and stuttered out a decline before turning on his heels to walk home. But the boy would not give up, and fell into step alongside Thomas looking him over curiously. 

 

‘Why not? Don’t you like football?’

 

Thomas turned to look at him, and stopped, turning to look at Lewy. 

 

‘Of course! It’s just-’ 

 

‘Just what?’ He interrupted. 

Thomas sighed, and gestured to his nose. ‘ I’m not sure how you’re so good if you can’t  _ see _  but my nose is all busted and I don’t think my mom would appreciate me making it worse,’ he huffed. 

 

There was a glint in the other boy’s eye. 

 

‘You think I’m good,’ he asked, smirking. 

 

‘Oh so that’s what you take out of that! Damn you must have some mighty strong legs to support a head that big!’ Thomas exclaimed, exasperatedly.

 

The boy just laughed, and slung his arm around Thomas’s shoulder. 

 

‘C’mon, what your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her and I have this feeling you’ll fit right in with the others.’ 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘The others’ were already gathered in a circle around the tallest one when the two arrived. 

 

‘I’m the kazrmpph mmmrrrmphg,’ He muffled in a thick tone. 

 

The group looked at each other confused. 

 

‘What!?’

 

‘I’m the Cat from Anzing,’ he said once more, in a clearer tone while gesticulating wildly.

 

The group let out a collective hum of agreement. Thomas however, did not understand. 

 

‘Who?’ 

 

Once more, tens sets of eyes focused their stare upon him. 

 

‘What did he say?’

 

‘Were you born in America or something man?

 

‘Yeah how can you claim to be german if you don’t know who the Cat from Anzing is?’ 

 

‘Ohh the Cat from Anzing! I thought you said the Cat from Dancing like Dancing with the stars,’ he lied smoothly. 

 

Robert interrupted before there could be anymore arguing. 

 

‘Anyway’s Thomas that Philipp and Joshua, Mesut ‘Squints’ Ozil, Lukas Podolski, we call him aha, Basti , Toni  Boa, Mats , Benni ,and Manuel the Wall Neuer. 

 

Boys, this is Thomas. He’s gonna play with us because that makes eleven.’ 

 

Robert’s arm was still slung around Thomas as they headed onto the pitch but that didn’t stop some from questioning his presence. 

 

‘Why’d you bring him Lewa?’ 

 

‘Because we’re ten and he makes eleven that’s why.’ 

 

‘Yeah, and so would Jonas but I didn’t bring him.’

 

‘With eleven guys we have a whole team, Mats.’ 

 

‘No with Marco we had a whole team.’ ‘Yeah Marco could shoot. And pass.’ 

 

‘Yeah, come on, Lewa, you saw the way he kicked. He’s not game.’ 

 

‘Guys, we’ve had an empty position since Marco broke his ankle. How are we supposed to compete in the game this weekend when we’re a man down. He’s playing with us. End of discussion.’ 

 

The grumbling died down. 

 

‘I said we were gonna work on corners today and I meant it. Duckie in goal. Boa, Fips, Joshua, Benni, and Mats on defense. Everyone else is attacking. Yeah-yeah takes the corner.’ 

 

Thomas stayed in place as the others moved around him. Cautiously, he curled his finger around the edge of Robert’s sleeve and dragged him closer to whisper in his ear. 

 

‘What, what do I do?’ 

 

Robert sighed and looked at him dead on. 

 

‘Go stand over there about three meters from Mats. When the ball comes to your feet, kick it as hard as you can towards the goal. Got it? Great.’ 

 

Actually, Thomas didn’t get it but Robert had jogged away, setting up everyone else in correct positions before gesturing to the boys to get on with it. 

 

Wanting to be ready, Thomas positioned himself precisely three meters from the dark haired boy someone had called Mats and watched closely as the perpetually bored-looking boy ran up and struck the ball towards the masses, the curl of his foot directing the ball into Robert’s chest, the Polish boy effectively bring it to the ground before laying it off towards Thomas. 

 

Unthinkingly, Thomas moved as he had been so vaguely directed, striking the ball with the inside of his right foot, as much power as he could muster.

 

And watched in awe as it sailed over the mountain of a goalie’s head and nestled into the top corner, the ruckus of the boys falling silent to the sound of ball as it finally settled in the back of the net. 

 

For what must have been the third time that day, Thomas felt ten pairs of eyes on him, a defiant blush coloring his cheeks. His gaze found Robert who smirked before responding. 

  
'Now that no-one has anymore objections, I believe we have a match to prepare for boys.'   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #not dead?

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe i've done this. please tell me what you think.


End file.
